


wins & losses

by aweekofsaturdays



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2016 Stanley Cup Playoffs, Dogs, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, M/M, idiot boys in love, injury mention, sad Jamie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-16 01:27:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9267599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aweekofsaturdays/pseuds/aweekofsaturdays
Summary: The Stars lose to the Blues in the second round of the playoffs, and Jamie learns some new information that makes it sting a little less.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [batmandeh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/batmandeh/gifts), [tabris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tabris/gifts).



> So after the Stars got knocked out of the running, I saw [this gifset](http://aweekofsaturdays.tumblr.com/post/144466883047) and it made me unbearably sad, so I had to make it better. [This one](http://aweekofsaturdays.tumblr.com/post/144477415207/stars-benn-this-is-where-i-want-to-play-this) didn't help matters at all. 
> 
> Also, for context, long story short Tyler had an Achilles tendon injury that kept him out for several games at the end of the regular season, he came back in briefly for the first round of the playoffs (maybe just one game?) and then was out again, still/again injured. He's fine now though! Hockey players are tough.
> 
> As always, this story is about fictional characters and has no bearing on or relation to anything in real life.

Jamie will remember later mostly that his toes are cold, when he stands at the tunnel and gives the saddest fist bumps of his life to his boys. Everyone is worn out, playoff stress etched on their faces and new cuts and bruises already scarring in places. He knows he should try to put on his captain’s face, reassure everyone that “we’ll get em next year, boys,” be the good kid who always somehow ends up in charge. 

The kicker is that he really thought they deserved it this year, and he’d laughed with Tyler about how much champagne they thought it would take to fill the Cup every day straight for a week. They had discussed earnestly if they should cover the pool at Tyler’s so Jordie wouldn’t fall in when the time came for the celebrations, even if it would be May-ish and so, prime pool weather. The sacrifices one makes for one’s family.

In the locker room, Jamie goes through the motions of stripping off his gear and making sure everything’s set for the staff to clean up. It hits him in the gut and the chest before he can internally throw up his guard that this is the last time they’ll do this for now-- and it hurts even more that it’s empty and weird without Tyler in the stall next to him, flashing his ridiculous abs and pointing out all the spots on their bodies that are still tattoo-free, for when they get to the top.

He finally makes it out to his car, exhausted from the media scrum, from at least trying to hold it together-- he’d been so _sure_ this was their year, he and Tyler both at the top of their game literally and figuratively. But when Tyler had hobbled towards him during that one fucking game, presumably for a celly but in actuality to be helped off the ice, wincing with the pain-- Jamie’d felt it all falling away from him, just a little, that first sinking in the pit of his stomach like he knew that this hitch wouldn’t be resolved so quickly. 

He finds himself navigating to Tyler’s place, instinctively choosing the route he knows by heart by now. With anyone else he’d be stuck in that captain’s seat for the night, but with Tyler he won’t have to say anything. Tyler would have watched the game alone with the dogs, angry and sad, from his godforsaken monstrosity of an overpriced couch. There’s something to be said for solidarity, though, and Jamie knows he won’t get pity or meaningless platitudes, anyway. Tyler hates that kind of stuff, surprisingly. 

When Jamie gets there, he pushes open the front door without knocking and heads for the kitchen. He thinks he’ll find Tyler in the den, or in the living room in front of his giant TV, but he’s not there. Cash comes charging around the corner and Jamie stoops down to hug him, getting a few licks to the face for his trouble. He wouldn’t begrudge Cash anything; Cash is secretly Jamie’s favorite, just like he knows Marshall is Tyler’s. 

Cash brings with him the hazy smell of lighter fluid and charcoal, so Jamie tosses his keys on the counter, grabbing a couple of beers from the fridge and heading outside. 

It’s dark and a little chilly, even for May in Texas, but Tyler’s on one of the lounge chairs by the pool, draped conspicuously over its length. His feet are bare and Marshall is curled up on the concrete, nosing up to lick at one of Tyler’s toes periodically. Three empty beer bottles line up precisely next to Tyler’s chair, but he’s not holding one and Jamie feels a tiny swell of what must be _pleased_ , although it’s confusing after the blur of his day. 

“Barbecue going?” Jamie manages to ask as he gets close enough to hand Tyler a beer, and Tyler reaches up for it, nodding, unsurprised by Jamie’s presence (whether alerted by Cash or otherwise). Marshall looks up mournfully until Jamie gives him a scritch behind the ears, settling onto the chair next to Tyler. He lays back for a moment, just breathing in the smells of the landscaped yard and Texas in spring and the grill behind them. It’s a pretty perfect night, all things considering.

Tyler tilts his head towards Jamie, pausing before offering his bottle in a silent toast. They drink quietly, unspeaking for once, sober in their loss. Jamie thinks again how grateful he is that no one’s trying to fix it, that for tonight they can mourn what could have been and just let the hurt of it sink into their bones. _Next year_ runs like a litany through his head, but he lets the thought go when he can. 

Tyler sits up with a groan finally, wincing as he gets up and puts weight on his leg; the doctors hadn’t quite known what to say, helpless in the face of the pressure to tell everyone what they had wanted to hear. But now it’s a moot point, and Tyler has time to recover. 

Jamie remembers his own last season, playing in so much pain that he could barely move after games but stubborn that he wasn’t going to miss one, wasn’t going to sit down while his team did the work. He thinks to himself that he’s almost glad they sat Tyler back down again, took the decision away from him so he couldn’t hurt himself worse. Besides, there’s pain and then there’s pain, and it wasn’t fair how thin and pale Tyler looked by the end of the regular season. Tyler should always be warm, full of summer and idiot grins and hugs for the fans. 

Tyler comes back with the largest steaks Jamie has ever seen, grinning as he sees Jamie crack a smile. Tyler’s precious about his old-fashioned grill, says it makes everything taste better, so of course Jamie gets up to supervise, offering commentary because he knows it irritates Tyler, and an irritated Tyler is a fun Tyler. 

Threats of being thrown into the pool and the sounds of happy dogs yipping fill the heavy evening. Tyler almost lets Jamie knock his lucky cap into the pool before he runs inside to “find somewhere safe to put it, goddammit Jamie, every time,” and Jamie feels a little lighter, laughing like an idiot at Tyler’s huffy indignation. He cracks the minute Jamie looks at him sideways, giggling as he busies himself again with the grill. Jamie sips his beer and looks at Tyler grinning and thinks that at least this part of things is pretty damn near all right. 

Tyler looks up and catches Jamie watching, and his grin fades to something a little quieter, and they don’t look away for a long moment.

The grill hisses and snaps, and Tyler swears, startled. 

“Apologize to Canada,” Jamie admonishes with a smarmy grin, and Tyler brandishes the grill brush like a sabre in his direction.

***

The steak is one of the best Jamie’s ever tasted, just because he’s here and they’re outside in the warm May evening and for once he doesn’t have a camera on him. It’s with shoulders lightened a little that they dig in, relief at the respite from everything a heady accompaniment to his grief that Jamie hadn’t expected. 

When their bellies are stuffed and the dogs are happily gnawing on a last few bites, he follows Tyler into the kitchen, grabbing their plates to put them away. He steps around Marshall and Cash who swarm him, hopefully anticipating that they will be allowed to “help” with cleanup. He grins down at them and then back up at Tyler, who looks strangely serious and is way closer than Jamie realized, and then Tyler is sliding one hand behind Jamie’s neck and leaning in, slowly enough that Jamie could pull away if he wanted to. 

Jamie doesn’t back out and Tyler kisses him, a soft press of lips against his slack mouth, quick like saying hello. 

“Huh,” Jamie says intelligently, blinking, hands still full, and Tyler’s warm look fades slowly to uncertainty, vulnerable where he’s usually brash and confident. 

Jamie turns to set the plates he’s holding on the counter and Tyler opens his mouth on what is likely an apology, running one nervous hand over the back of his neck. But Jamie’s quicker, and he gets his big hands on Tyler’s hips before he can move away, feeling the soft cotton of his shirt beneath his fingertips. 

Jamie looks at Tyler for a long minute, holding him close, and Tyler must see something in his expression because he relaxes incrementally even if he still looks like a little wary. Jamie rolls his eyes and laughs, and kisses him again, lightly, letting his hands encircle Tyler’s waist, and Tyler twines his arms around Jamie’s neck, smiling into the kiss like an idiot. 

Jamie thinks to himself idly, attention understandably focused mostly elsewhere, that this probably won’t actually change much about them, even if in reality it’s going to change everything. _Next year_ … he lets himself think before pressing a little closer. _Next year_.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to batmandeh for the forever Jamie/Tyler love, and Tabs for encouraging me to post this and yelling about these two idiots with me :D
> 
> Also poor Jamie "@self don’t drop the fuckin plates eh"


End file.
